Not Jealous
by bluedayssilvernights
Summary: Birkin and Wesker have been friends for decades, so why Wesker is suddenly ignoring him? What is the reason? Wesker/Chris and slight Wesker/Birkin
1. Chapter 1

_Hey ! It's my first resident evil fanfic, it's set before the events of RE 0 and RE 1._

_It's WeskerXChris, and a bit of BirkinXWesker, but you can read that in a romantic way or in a friendship way._

It's not like William Birkin was jealous.

No, he was just… Annoyed.

Albert Wesker and him had been friends and colleagues for more than twenty years. They had collaborated on a huge number of experiments, they had worked together all day and all night for months. Before he met Annette, Wesker was practically the only person he has a real human relationship with. Someone who listened to him and shared his ideals, someone he could discuss everything with.

They had even murdered their mentor, Dr. Marcus, together, damn it. The doctor had tried to sow discord between them in every way, but he had just ended up making them closer.

There had been his relationship with Annette, the wedding and Sherry's birth, and thing hadn't changed. Then Wesker had been charged with the task of creating and leading the S.T.A.R.S., but things still hadn't changed. Wesker somehow always found time to go to Birkin's home at evening, o meeting him at the labs.

In the last three months, however, things had changed.

It had been imperceptible, at the beginning.

Wesker showed up less, or he bailed at the last minute. And he looked almost… Not happier, not that, but lighter, more relaxed.

Birkin had started to feel neglected. Was it possible that Wesker had found another friend in that gang of dumb cops he had assembled? Ridiculous. And yet they had gone from seeing each other twice a week, to meeting once a month, if all went well.

One evening, during a dinner, Sherry had accidentally knocked over a plate on Wesker, smearing all his shirt. While Annette scolded the child, they had gone to the bedroom, where Wesker had undressed and William had lend him one of his shirts, commenting that it would have been probably too small.

He had turned and had noticed something on Wesker's pale skin, something that for a second he had mistaken for a bruise. But then he had understood. It was a hickey.

He had acted like nothing had happened and had not talked about it, but he finally had a clue.

Birkin knew Wesker sometimes had really brief sexual relationships with other people, but they had never really talked about it. They weren't the type of men that sit in a bar and brag about stuff like that.

However, a relationship would have explained the sudden unavailability of his friend.

Who could it be? A secretary of the police? A neighbor?

Birkin had decided to not think too hard about it. Like all the others, it would have been a short thing, a flash in the pan.

But a week later, Wesker had failed to show up at all for the meeting at the labs. Birkin had waited for him for hours, before giving up and going home. He had ignored Sherry's joyful greeting and hugs, and had taken a shower, trying to calm down, but ending up becoming even more irritated and angry. Wesker had never behaved in this way, and if he had to skip one of their meetings, he had least called first.

This time, nothing at all.

The next morning he showed up at Wesker's apartment. Wesker opened the door without smiling.

"William? What's happ…"

"Where were you last night?"

"I'm n…"

"We had a meeting at the labs. Did you forget?" Birkin spat in a venomous tone

Wesker didn't reply. So he had _actually_ forgotten about it.

It was absurd, really. Wesker never forgot anything, he was a genius, just like Birkin. What was happening?

"I waited hours for you, you know."

"I was making coffee." Wesker replied coldly, heading toward the kitchen.

Birkin followed him: he had rarely been in his friend's apartment. Everything was clean and tidy, and despite the fact that Wesker had lived there for years, it was still impersonal like an interior design magazine.

Wesker poured coffee in a small cup and sat down. It was weird seeing him without sunglasses and with uncombed hair. He probably had just gotten out of bed.

"You could at least call, yesterday."

Wesker took a sip. "I had a mishap." He admitted flatly. "Nothing to worry about."

Birkin inhaled, trying to calm down. He knew sometimes he got caught up with his paranoiac thoughts and his quirks. Maybe it was just a thing inside his head, after all.

He held a yawn. He could not remember how long he had been awake. How many hours? Twenty-five? Thirty? Sometimes, when he was very busy with a project, he simply forgot to sleep and eat.

If there had not been Wesker when they were young, and now Annette, to remind him to care about himself, Birkin might have killed himself by starvation and lack of sleep.

"Alright, then." He said. "I was just… It doesn't matter. See, some days ago some agents from Spencer arrived, and communicated to all the staff that, without…"

He stopped, because an unknown guy had just appeared at the door of the kitchen.

He could not have been more than twenty-five. He wore grey pants and a black T-shirt Birkin was sure belonged to his friend.

Silence fell and the boy ran a hand through his hair, glancing nervously at Wesker.

"Ehm, hi." He said.

"William, this is…"

"I'm Chris, nice to meet you." Said the boy. He came forward with his hand outstretched, and was illuminated by the morning light coming from the windows. He was attractive, if you liked that type: an honest face, brown hair, a little taller than Birkin and brawny.

For a moment he considered to leave him there and not shake his hand, but then he did it the same.

"William Birkin." He muttered.

Chris tried to say something, but Birkin had more pressing matters to think about. "You could have told me you weren't alone." He hissed at Wesker.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something…" Chris said.

"Don't worry, Chris." Wesker finally said. "William is a an old friend of mine, we should have met last night but unfortunately I was busy."

The boy looked away, embarrassed.

Birkin could not believe it. Now all the pieces of the puzzle were in place: the hickey, the fact that both looked like they had just woken up, the slight submissive attitude that Chris had towards his friend.

Wesker was having an affair with a member of S.T.A.R.S.

"Yeah, I imagine how busy you were." Said Birkin, trying to sound normal.

He examined Chris from head to toe. He didn't look different from any local guy, with an all-American-face. What did Wesker find in him? How long was this affair going on?

"Well, I… I'm going back to the bedroom. It was nice to meet you." Said Chris.

"My pleasure." Birkin whispered. The boy gave him a worried look and disappeared.

"There was no need for all this mummery." Said Wesker. He looked almost amused, and this offended Birkin.

"A mummery? Are you kidding me? Who's that?"

"Chris. One of my S.T.A.R.S. subordinates." Replied Wesker, standing up and tilting his head.

"And… How long…?"

"Not long, around four months."

Birkin narrowed his eyes. Four whole months. It _was_ long, for a man who never had lasting relationships.

"Have you gone mental? This is so unwise." Hissed Birkin.

Wesker sighed, and walked towards the door. "I don't think it's your business who I sleep with, William."

"Yes, it is. So you risk your cover? And everything we've worked for over the years? What if he finds out?"

Wesker smiled, stopping in front of the door of his apartment. "You're too paranoid, you've always been. He knows nothing, and above all, he's not that important."

_You're literally sending me away to be alone with him, and he's not that important? _Birkin looked away.

He really wanted to believe his friend. He said to himself that it was, almost certainly, only a temporary affair. Soon Wesker would get bored and he would dump the boy. Maybe Chris would have reacted badly, maybe he would have attempted to attack Wesker, and they could have him kidnapped and experimented on. He was an excellent specimen, young and strong… Birkin would have found a particular enjoyment in stabbing him with needles.

"What are you gonna do today? You have the day off, right? You could come to the lab, there's a serum I wanted to show you…"

"I'm sorry." Wesker raised his eyebrows and glanced at the bedroom. "Maybe tomorrow."

Birkin left slamming the door.

_Hope you liked this _

_I'll probably write another chapter, with Chris' POV._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey !_

_So I finally wrote another chapter. It's Chris's POV, and like the other one, it's WeskerXChris, and a bit of BirkinXWesker, but Birkin can be seen a particularly jealous friend. _

_Thanks to __**littlevamp**__ for your comment! I'm glad you liked it!_

_Thanks to __**Hakendo Mitsuronairi**__ for the comment ! I'm really happy you enjoyed the first one, and I hope you like this one too !_

_Thanks to __**Master of Fangirling Art**__ for your comment, I read your story "One Month In Your Shoes" and I really like it, so I'm glad you appreciated my first ! And yes, Annette and William's parenting is awful, but I guess you can't expect better from two of Umbrella's mad scientists ahah._

_**Warnings:**__ There are description of sex, but they are very brief and not graphic._

"… Waited hours for…"

Chris Redfield woke up and grunted. His eyes were still closed, and he was trying to not forget a dream that had just ended.

"… At least call…"

He opened his eyes and for a moment he was confused. That was not his bed, and that was not his bedroom. He blinked and finally realized where he was: he had spent the night at Wesker's apartment, something that happened more and more often.

He winced as he sat up: his whole body was sore, even in the most unlikely places. The night before had been one of the best of his life: Wesker had fucked him three times, to the point that Chris had had to literally beg him to stop. Although his Captain was thirteen years older than Chris, he was insatiable and tireless, endowed with an enviable stamina.

"… A mishap…"

Voices were coming from the kitchen. Chris stood up and run his fingers through his tousled brown hair.

One of the voices was Wesker's, obviously: he would have recognized everywhere that slight English accent and deep voice. But the other voice was upset, with almost a childish lilt, and it spat out words in a frenetic way.

Deciding to go and investigate, Chris grabbed his sweatpants. He considered whether or not to wear a T-shirt, but after discovering two new hickeys, one on the shoulder and one on the chest, he decided to get dressed completely. Ever since that relationship with Wesker had started, his body had become a canvas painted with bruises, scratches and slight bite marks. He could no longer take a shower at the gym, it would have raised too many questions and dismayed looks.

It was a pity that the thing was not mutual: when _he_ had given his Captain's chest a hickey, he had been forced to endure a week of complaints.

He went to the kitchen, and found a rather odd scene. Wesker was sitting at the table, calmly drinking coffee from a cup. In front of him, standing, there was a guy that Chris had never seen before. He was a bit shorter than him, with thin blond hair and a sunken face. His bloodshot eyes were underlined by deep dark circles, as if he had not slept in days.

"… That, without…" The unknown man broke off and stared at Chris.

There was a brief moment of silence. Chris ran a hand through his hair again, regretting leaving the bedroom: was he interrupting a private conversation?

The unknown man moved his gaze from Chris to Wesker, while the expression on his face turned quickly from puzzled to annoyed.

"Ehm, hi." Chris said.

Wesker put down the cup. For once, he didn't have those stupid sunglasses on, and Chris could see his whole face. Chris's presence didn't seem to bother him. He looked, in fact, almost bored.

"William, this is…"

"I'm Chris, nice to meet you." He said, taking a step forward and reaching out.

The guy, William, appeared to be deeply offended by his presence, and for almost five seconds he stayed still, to the point that Chris thought of giving up and lowering his hand.

But then he shook it, even if he did it quickly.

"William Birkin." He muttered. Chris kept smiling, even when Birkin's body odor reached his nostrils. He smelled like an awful mix of sweat and disinfectant.

"So, are you…" Chris tried to say, but Birkin interrupted him. "You could have told me you weren't alone." He snapped at Wesker.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something…" Chris said, sincerely regretting not staying in the bedroom.

"Don't worry, Chris." Wesker said. "William is an old friend of mine, we should have met last night but unfortunately I was busy."

_Since when Wesker has friends?_ Chris thought.

Of course his Captain had not been able to meet with William: when work had ended and all the other members of S.T.A.R.S. had gone home, the two of them had made out for half an hour in the locker room, right against Barry's locker (Chris really hoped his friend would never find out). After that they had gone to Wesker's apartment and had practically spent the night always having sex: twice in the bedroom, and when Wesker had proposed taking a shower together, they had ended up doing it another time, with Chris pinned against the tiled wall.

After all, that was the first day since their relationship had started that they had the same day off. Chris had fantasized about spending it together, but maybe he was wrong.

"Yeah, I imagine how busy you were." Birkin said in a flat tone, and glanced coldly at Chris. He frowned: it was not certainly his fault if Wesker had preferred to spend the night with him than with his friend. Then why that guy seemed to loathe him so much?

It was almost… No. It was impossible that he was… Jealous, right?

What if he wasn't just a friend, but also Wesker's ex?

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Chris announced: "Well, I… I'm going back to the bedroom. It was nice to meet you."

"My pleasure." Birkin whispered, glancing at him with annoyance.

Chris closed the door of the bedroom and sat down on the bed. From the kitchen the voices moved to the entry of the apartment, and he imagined Birkin was leaving. Even if he tried not to eavesdrop, a few words still arrived to his ears.

"… Mental…"

"… Your business…"

"… Over the years…"

"… Too paranoid, you've always…"

"… Maybe…"

The door was slammed with a violence that surprised Chris, and finally silence fell in the apartment.

The door of the bedroom opened and Wesker walked in.

"Ah, you're back in bed. Good." He said, like nothing had happened. He sat next to Chris and landed a delicate kiss on his neck.

Chris let him do what he wanted, but when the kisses started to get more aggressive, he asked:"Who was that?"

"Who?"

"_That guy_."

"I already told you, a friend."

Chris raised his eyebrows, and the grimace was not lost on Wesker.

"What? You thought I had not a life before S.T.A.R.S?" The older man looked almost amused. "You thought I had materialized one day in the RPD?"

Chris looked away because yes, that was exactly the theory Jill and him had elaborated about Wesker's origin a few months earlier.

"No, of course not." He lied. "I'm sorry. I was just… Surprised."

"Mmh." Wesker murmured, losing interest for the subject and laying his hand on the other man's thigh. "You're wearing my T-shirt."

"Yeah." Chris grinned, finally setting aside the weird experience he just had and slightly spreading his legs. "So what?"

"So…" His Captain's grip on his thigh tightened while he kissed Chris. "So maybe you should take it off."


End file.
